Lonely Hearth
by funmemories-hopefuldreams
Summary: A secret kept away in a secluded clearing, a young demigod wonders just when he'll finally be free from the confines of his tower. However, leaving the tower is the least of his worries when he hears that his mother's disappearance could very well lead to an inevitable war worse than any before; a war between the Olympians themselves.
1. The Tower

**Lonely Hearth**

**Chapter 1 : The Tower**

The moon was bright again tonight.

From beyond my window the stars twinkled up in the clear night sky above. Some were mere pinpricks of light in the distance, flickering and winking like dancing candle flames caught in a breeze. Others were large and shining brightly as they cast their light down to earth. The few clouds that _did _hang in the sky were thin and barely visible. They were no match for the moon's brightness and the clearness of the air so high above.

My fingers trailed across the window sill as I stared out into the night sky, trying to remember all the constellations I had read about in the various books behind me. Ursa Major burned brightly above and Orion's Belt shone down. Andromeda and Ophiuchus were up there dancing, Hercules and Gemini scattered up in the heavens. Hercules, Cancer, Draco, Lyra, Pegasus. The list just went on and on. From my tower, it felt like I could just reach out and tip Libra's scales.

But of course I couldn't.

I sighed, reluctantly lowering my eyes back down to earth below. There wasn't much to see down there from my window at night. Aside from the circular clearing I was in, trees stretched out on all sides across the wide expanse of land like a sea of nature, plant life and the green of earth dominating my field of vision. As far as I could tell, that's all there was. Trees, trees, and more trees. There was a small creek that ran across the clearing of my tower, the distant sounds of moving water too far below to hear. It reminded me of a silly saying that I had read about in my books. _If a tree fell with no one around to hear it fall, did it make a sound? _

Of course, I thought. But I wouldn't know; I was too far away to hear.

I felt my gaze inevitably drawn upwards once more. A faint smile brought the corners of my lips up.

"You're a new face, aren't you?" I murmured to the stars up in the heavens. "Mind telling me how you got up there?"

The girl running across the stars didn't reply.

I had been most bemused when I first noticed her up there a few years ago. One night when I had just finished sewing together a quilt I had made out of boredom, I chanced a glance out the large window out of hope that Mother would come visit me soon. It was always fun when Mother came to visit. She would hug me and tell me stories of how the world was like outside, how beautiful the world was.

That's when I saw her up in the sky. A bow in hand, legs in motion, a glowing circlet of shooting stars ringing her head, the majestic constellation shone brightly like she had always been there for the whole world to see. I liked to call her the Hunter, it just felt right to me. Call me crazy, but I sometimes liked talking to her, too. She wasn't like Ophiuchus or Altair and Vega where they were so distant and far. The Hunter just felt closer, warmer. Human.

"The stars are truly beautiful tonight," a voice said behind me.

I jolted out of my thoughts. "They are."

A woman was kneeling by the fireplace to my left. Previously unlit, the fireplace was now blazing and radiating cozy warmth to every corner of my tower room. I waited as she held her hands out to the flames, the flames dancing and calming at her presence, settling down to a mellow and warm hearth. When she was apparently satisfied with the hearth, she turned to face me.

"Have you been well?" Mother asked with a warm smile.

"Of course, Mom," I returned the smile. It wasn't rare for Mother to drop by, but they weren't often enough for me not to feel happy when she visited. "Aside from burning my hands one time last week while I was baking, everything's been fine."

"That is good to hear," she said quietly. Her warm brown eyes regarded me in the way they always did whenever she visited. It was hard for me to pin down what it was I saw there. It was a definite look of nurture and caring, I could practically feel the affection radiating from her gaze alone. The protective watch of a mother over her child, I supposed. But as much as she tried to hide it, I could feel something akin to sadness there, too. Almost as though as much as she loved me, she felt equally sorry for me. I wondered why that was.

I hurried across the circular room, my footsteps tapping and echoing in the high-domed ceiling. "Cookie?" I offered from the kitchen as I held up a plate of the treats.

My mother followed me and accepted one of the pastries. She ate one and smiled. "Not bad. I distinctly recall the first time you tried baking these you set the oven on fire."

"Chef Ramsay was on yesterday. Thought I'd try making something special for once, regardless of how risky my blazing cookies would be."

"You mean that angry man that always yells from the television?"

"That's the one."

Mother chuckled, brushing a crumb from my cheek. "I was not confident that bringing that mortal device was a good idea, but it appears that my confidence was true. Though, I am uncertain what kind of influence a furious cook will have on you."

"Nothing worse than me screaming at a teapot, I assure you," I smiled.

Mother watched me as I picked up a couple of books lying around the floor and sorted them neatly back into the wall across from the fireplace (the entire thing was practically a ginormous bookshelf). It might sound awkward for someone to watch you do every little thing, but I didn't particularly mind it. I was alone most of the time, after all. Some company every once in a while was nice.

"Did anything special happen outside? Anything cool you did?" I asked her.

She smiled and nodded, her pretty black curls swishing over her shoulders. I listened to her stories as I tidied up my room. I loved it when my Mother told me things about what was happening outside, what she did out in this place called Camp Half-Blood and this place she referred to as Olympus. The animals that soared through the air like pegasi or harpies, or creatures that lived in the water like hippocampi or naiads, and even beings one with the trees like nymphs and dryads. It was never boring to hear her talk about the people she met. I knew I wanted to meet them, too.

I heard Mother cough after I put my quilt back over my bed in the corner. I looked back over at her who was still standing by the kitchen table.

She shifted on her feet and my suspicions were confirmed that something was on her mind. ". . . Erm, my son," she started a little uncertainly. I glanced at her expectantly. "Artemis has told me that she has heard your prayers."

I raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Artemis. . . that friend of yours who hates guys?"

"Well, she doesn't necessarily _hate _males, she just doesn't find much comfort in their presence. . . or maybe no comfort at all. . . okay fine, maybe she does have a slight dislike of males. I mean, she hasn not turned any man into a jackalope yet this whole year," my mother said almost to herself. "And yes, she is my friend."

I tilted my head in slight confusion. "I don't think I've ever prayed to her before. Should I have?"

Her brown eyes crinkled in a smile. "She heard you speaking to her lieutenant up in the sky. Artemis thought that perhaps it would be in order for me to pay a visit to my son who went as far as to start a conversation with her most loyal Hunter."

I stood in silence for a moment, wondering what the heck my mom was talking about. Lieutenant in the sky? Last I checked, the only thing in the sky were the - My eyes were instantly drawn to the window and upwards once more, and they widened. "_Oh!_" I exclaimed in excited realization, "the pretty girl up there is Artemis's lieutenant? The one with the bow and glowing circlet? Yeah, I was bored so I thought I'd try talking to her. She never responded."

"Ah, but that doesn't mean she didn't listen," my mother chuckled. "It may seem as though we never listen to our children's calls, but we do. We listen and we do care." She shifted on her feet again. It was rare for her to seem so uneasy about something. "It. . . It has come to my attention that perhaps you are unhappy up here in this tower. That I have been too protective of you for too long. You're fourteen years of age now, my son, and you have not even set foot out of this clearing."

I waited for her to go on in silence. I _did _feel bored sometimes up here in the tower alone, and I most certainly longed to see what it was like beyond that sea of trees down in the earth below. But why was Mother bringing this up now? And why was _she _bringing it up? It was always me who had tried to convince her to take me to see her friends (or family, she called them. Everyone she went to see was family). She always gently told me that it was best that I didn't, as her friends were all extremely temperamental. The aforementioned Artemis had a fierce dislike of males, a guy named Apollo liked poetry _a lot _and smote anyone who said he was bad, and an assortment of other people she mingled with.

"Are you implying. . . ?" I let the thought hang in the air.

Mother looked at me with those warm brown eyes again, the same look in her eyes again. "I love you so much more than you can understand, my son," she said, her voice soft. I could tell she meant every word of it. But I could also tell what was coming next. Mother's eyes lowered to the floor. "But. . . I am afraid that it cannot be so."

A breath I didn't know I was holding slowly left through my nose.

"I am sorry, please understand," Mother continued. "Please forgive me." Her voice was fragile, almost as though she were about to cry. I didn't understand why she took everything so hard, when _I _should have been the one angry and crying. But something in her voice told me that she _did _feel sorry, and that if there was something she could do about it, then she would want _nothing_ more than for me to leave the tower, too. I just didn't understand what held her back.

I carefully made my way back over to the kitchen, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, I get it." _I don't._ "I'll stay here."

Her eyes were bright and reflected the firelight, tearful when she looked back up to me. There was a blaze of warmth and love there, a fierce determination that burned in her from her very soul. "I promise," she said firmly. Her voice no longer shook. "I promise, Aubrey. One day, you _will _leave this tower if it is the one thing I will accomplish in this century. I swear it on the River Styx."

Somewhere far above, thunder boomed across the sky as the words left my mother's lips. I wondered if that was Zeus's occasional check in or what.

A ghost of a smile found its way onto my face. "Don't mind if I hold you to it, Mom. I'd love to meet those people you've told me about, the family you've told me about, go to the places you've told me about."

"You _will_," she smiled gently, taking my hands in hers. "One day, you will get to do everything I've told you about and so much more."

I couldn't help believing her just a little when she sounded so convinced herself. "Yeah."

Gently, I pulled my hand away. "It's getting late, Mom. You should head back to Olympus. I think you said that Demeter and Hera were waiting for you tonight?"

She glanced out the window as if just realizing how late it was, the brilliant moon already halfway through its journey across the sky. "Yes, of course. It was inconsiderate of me to visit you so late. You should rest."

I nodded, trying to conceal my disappointment. I could only guess the next time I would see my Mother again.

I watched her in respectful anticipation, expecting her to disappear in a poof of pleasant smelling smoke as she always did when she took her leave, kissing me softly on the forehead. But this time, she surprised me when she took my hand and led me to my bed in the corner of the room. I couldn't remember the last time she had tucked me in for the night. But the familiar warmth, the careful and full hearted affection I felt when she wrapped the blankets up to my chin were familiar to me. It felt. . . _right_. It was a foreign sensation.

My Mother gently brushed my bangs back from my eyes, black just like her pretty black curls that hung past her shoulders.

I fell into the comforts of sleep listening to her quiet lullaby, a song in a language I didn't know but somewhere deep inside me, understood. The song of Home.

My final thoughts as I drifted off to sleep were of the day that my Mother promised I would leave the tower. The day I would finally be free from my own isolation.

Little did I know just how soon that day would come.


	2. I Have Lunch With a God

**Lonely Hearth**

**Chapter 2 : I Have Lunch With a God**

The oven had only exploded in flames twice that day, which I thought was pretty good.

Several weeks had passed since Mother's last visit; meaning several past weeks of monotonous boredom.

I had a lot of books to read and pencils and tools to make all kinds of art with, but one could only read and paint so much in fourteen years. The TV was a big help to be sure. Mother had brought it back to the Tower about two years ago for my birthday, of which she had reservations at first. She herself didn't even really know what a television set _was_; all she knew was that mortals usually kept one in their home and it projected sounds and images. Me? I didn't know what the hell a TV was but it showed _people_, actual people that moved and talked and laughed. And that was good enough for me.

Still, I wished Mother would return soon. It was unusual for her to be gone so long.

Making a sound half between a groan and a whimper, I rolled onto my side on the floor of the circular room. Cracking open a book next to my face, I immediately shut it and pushed it aside again, seeing as I had read that particular volume at least five times in the past year alone.

_What do people even _do _when they're bored?_

My eyes drifted from my library of books to the large window that opened out to the sky. It was daytime, the bright sunlight filtering in through a thin, almost invisible film of magic that helped soften the sun's glare when it got hot during mid-day. It was nice that Mother even saw to the little things like risk of sunburn in my own home.

Getting up from my place on the floor, I moved to the desk I kept next to my bed. An assortment of drawings were splayed across the table; sheafs of paper with artwork of various stages scattered across the wooden surface. Some were little more than rough sketches while others were fully completed drawings that I should've hung on the wall.

I picked up a leaf. On the paper was a drawing of what I thought Camp Half-Blood would look like, the kind of horseshoe shape that Mother described the various cabins were in, the lake with pretty naiads in the depths, the woods where the monsters prowled. Another sheet showed a mortal city. Tall buildings densely populated the drawing, though I wasn't sure how accurate the drawing actually was because I had only gone off of what I had seen on TV.

Just as I was about to turn away, one paper almost hidden amidst the others caught my eye. I felt my eyebrows furrowing as I pulled it out from the pile. It was a drawing of a boy. He wasn't very tall, maybe just a little taller than me. But he was definitely older than me. He was slenderly built, lithe and strong. His bangs were brushed off to the side as if he were in a hurry, his mouth set in a scowl so firmly that it made me feel like hiding under my armchair. But what caught my attention the most were his eyes. His irises were pure silver like the moon had poured its very essence into them, shining bright and deadly clear.

Who was this boy?

_A dream? _

I shook my head. I would have remembered dreaming about someone, of which I hadn't done before. The only dreams I had ever received were raw emotions, either pure warmth and bliss or irresistible fear and anguish. There was no in between.

With a sigh, I let the paper slip back onto the desk.

No point in worrying about something that would never involve me.

My eyes found themselves drawn to the window once more. The sun's light continued to stubbornly stream in. I couldn't even talk with the girl in the sky, the girl Mother called Artemis's Lieutenant. She never answered (for which I'm kinda glad-if stars started talking then I really would be off my rocker) but anything to clear the heavy silence in the Tower-even if it was just me talking to myself.

It wasn't that I disliked being alone, I actually loved the quiet and sereneness of my room. But that didn't mean I didn't feel a little lonely sometimes, too.

I made my way to the kitchen, unable to stave my stomach off any longer. I would have often forgotten to eat had my body not started stabbing me in the gut like it wanted to impale itself on its own hunger.

Singing softly to myself, I began to make stew. I could feel the monotony that had been building up over the past few days slowly melting away as my body fell into rhythm in song and cooking. It sounds dumb, but cooking was when I felt most at peace. It was something to _do _at least that required any physical movement. Stew was a simple dish that I was good at, if I had to say so myself. It was the first dish Mother had ever taught me to make.

"You have a nice voice."

A finger nearly rolled onto the chopping board rather than the onion I had been cutting. The knife I was holding hovered an inch above the chopping board uncertainly.

_Had I imagined that?_

Slowly, I looked up.

My eyes must have been playing tricks on me, because lounging on the sofa by the fireplace was a guy. He had blond hair as bright as the sun itself, bright blue eyes like the sky itself. He was dressed in a simple orange T-shirt and shorts (was that simple? From what I could tell on TV it was simple). The guy looked like he was a few years older than me, lean and muscular. He flashed me a smile, his teeth threatening to blind me with almost painful brightness.

I just stood behind the kitchen counter, onion in hand and gawking at the stranger.

"What? Don't stop, I just complimented your voice."

_There was a person in my _Tower_._

My mouth opened closed several times like a goldfish but no sound came out. "H-How did you get in here? Who are you?" I sputtered, wide eyed and finally finding my voice.

The man shook his head and sighed as if he were disappointed.

"Another one who doesn't know me. How does anyone not know _me_?" he muttered almost to himself in obvious disbelief. He looked up with another dazzling smile. "I'm just the most awesome god in the existence of the universe; the dude who drives the sun across the sky part-time and full-time man of poetry and archery and healing and yada-yada-yada. You sure you don't know me?"

I finally found enough sense to hold my kitchen knife up defensively. I had seen enough crime shows to know that a stranger in your living room wasn't a good thing.

But what did he say he was? A _god_?

My eyes narrowed and I murmured, "A god. . . ?"

The man's eyebrows rose in slight surprise. "Seriously? You don't know about me? I'm just like your mom, after all."

A hundred things ran through my head at that moment. All those times that Mother had told me about her family, how temperamental they were. I knew that Mother was a god, she had told me so and had demonstrated her power. But if this guy said that he was just like my Mother, then all the puzzle pieces clicked into place perfectly. Then that meant that this man. . .

"You're an Olympian," I breathed in wonder.

The man clicked his tongue and shot me with finger guns. "Bingo. Now, which one? I have a name."

"Apollo," I responded almost instantaneously. The name had flickered off the edge of my tongue before I realized what I had even said. Why had the answer come so quickly? Was it because Mother had always complained about her nephew being annoying with his poetry? "You're Apollo."

Apollo spread his arms in a grand gesture as though he were greeting a huge crowd of fans or expected me to hug him. I hoped it wasn't the latter. "I see my reputation precedes me," he smirked. "Now, if you would lower that vegetable knife like a civilized member of society that'd be great, thanks."

I slowly lowered my knife back to the chopping board. "Apollo, sir. . . I mean, mister. . . or lord. . .?" I trailed off awkwardly, realizing just how little I knew about actually _engaging _in conversation with anyone other than my Mother.

The god gave me a bemused look. "Funny kid, aren't ya? Apollo'll do fine, unless you really want to show your love for me and call me your lordship. That's fine, too."

"Apollo," I started again a little quietly. "It's-It's an honor for you to visit. But. . . why are you here?"

He was quiet for a while, his striking eyes drilling into mine as if he were trying to search for things beneath the surface. I could feel something prying at the edges of my consciousness, a foreign force trying to look into my mind. It alarmed me to feel another presence in my own mind. On instinct, I cleared my head and shut out the intruder.

"Impressive," Apollo mused. A lyre (at least I _thought _it was a lyre, I had read about them once) appeared out of thin air and he began to strum the instrument.

". . . what is?" I asked tentatively when it became clear Apollo was content with strumming away at his instrument.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just that you were able to resist a god's mental influence without any effort at all. What secrets did your mom teach you? It'd be sweet if my kids could do that."

I frowned in confusion. "Teach? She never taught me anything like that before. Moreover, you never answered my question as to why you are here."

Apollo shot me a smile. "Just thought I'd stop by."

"After fourteen whole years of my mother being the only person I have ever spoken with? I think not." I said quietly, resuming my cooking.

I tried not to sound resentful or bitter, but I guess Apollo must have caught something in my voice. His strumming slowed to a stop, the passive warmth of the music trickling away like the last rays of sunlight at the end of the day. I hadn't even noticed the effect of the music until it was gone. Apollo looked at me.

"You're right, I'm not just here to visit. I'm here on business," he said evenly. His easygoing grin had slipped from his face, replaced by a look of seriousness with no room for joking matters. "I think your help would be most appreciated for something, Aubrey Chessa."

I flinched at the sound of my name.

Knives chopped vegetables and meats were added to the pot of simmering stew behind me on their own, something that occasionally happened whenever I started to feel agitated. Behold, the great kitchen-kinesis master. Terrifying, I know.

"How do you know my name?" I asked as I mentally turned down the heat of the stove. "No-Rather, how do you even know I _exist_?"

Apollo nodded like I had made a good point. "You're sharper than I had expected, Aubrey. True, I didn't even know you existed until recently. Which is to say, like, a couple days ago but minor details, minor details. I'm awesome so I know everything, of course. My sister told me about you."

It took me a moment to bring up the godly family tree in my mind's eye. My eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Your sister, Artemis, told you about _me_?"

The thought made me chuckle inwardly. Why would a major Olympian like Artemis speak with someone like Apollo about me, a pathetic kid who had never even set foot out of the Tower? I figured I made for less than boring conversation. And why bring me up now?

Apollo began to say something else when my internal senses told me the stew was ready.

"Hold that thought," I told him, and he looked shocked as though he had never been cut off before. I took out bowls from a nearby cabinet and began to ladle out the soup. All this news was difficult to take in on an empty stomach, but it would feel wrong to stand there and eat while he didn't. "My lunch is ready. Would you like some, too?"

The god's eyebrows shot up so fast I thought they had achieved maximum lift off. "You're inviting me to lunch?" he asked, sounding positively baffled. "You, a demigod, are offering to share your lunch with me."

I tilted my head in slight confusion and glanced at him. "Yeah, I think that's what I'm doing. I don't really know, I've seen people do it on TV and they always looked pretty happy. Do you not want any?"

Apollo stared at me in something I thought looked like puzzled amusement. Then after a moment, a grin split his face and he began jovially plucking at his lyre again. "Interesting, really interesting. Yeah, sure. I'll have some."

- x -

"I had my doubts, kid, but I have to admit. That was some pretty damn good food. Clean your ears, child, for the great me is about to bless your meal with my awesome poetry," Apollo cleared his throat, "a demigod cooks, a bowl of soup for a god, it was delicious."

I laughed, applauding quietly. "Thank you for that. . . breath taking haiku, I believe. My mother taught me how to make that dish."

Something about Apollo's eyes flickered when I mentioned my mother, a shadow flitting across his face for a nano second and gone the next. He was smiling and laughing again like. . . well, the sun. But his easygoing demeanor didn't fool me. There was definitely something about Mother that made Apollo uneasy, and if it was a shaky connection between the two of _them_, I wasn't sure how safe it was for _me_ to be alone in a room with him.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not gonna hurt you," Apollo snorted from his seat.

I mentally smacked myself. "Right, telepathy," I muttered under my breath.

Apollo nodded winningly. "The perks of being a god, living the high life."

Setting the empty bowls on the kitchen counter, I kept my voice neutral as I asked him, "Earlier, you were saying something about wanting my help. What did you mean by that?"

The god's cheery manner subsided once more. "Ah, yes, that," he said. With a flourish of his hand, another instrument appeared in his hands and he began to strum it absently. "I may need your help with something."

"Me, help _you_? With what?" I asked, puzzled. "You do realize that you're asking a kid who's never left home to assist a god with something, right?"

Apollo made a face like, _point taken_. "I agree, the thought did cross my mind. I do find it beneath me to have to ask a little demigod like you for help. I'm amazed I haven't incinerated you out of shame yet," he said colloquially. I hoped he was joking. "But what I'm asking you to do is something. . . unique, I guess you can say. I want you to meet someone."

"Meet someone," I repeated, feeling more and more confused as the conversation went on. "Who? Or rather, will this person be coming to my Tower as well?"

"He's my. . . nephew I guess you could say," Apollo said. It almost seemed as though he were skirting the topic. He waved his hand dismissively. "And no, getting him to this Tower of yours would take too long, Zeus knows how long it took even _me _to get in. We're going to him."

I stood there frowning at the floor. I wanted to go. It might sound impulsive to just leave home with a person I had never met before (okay, yeah, it's definitely impulsive) but this was my chance. My chance to leave the _Tower_. To actually see what the world was like beyond the scope of trees and sky, beyond my own isolation. To see _people_, living, breathing people who talked and walked just like I could. And yet. . .

It felt like my heart was cracking to pieces as I slowly shook my head. "I'm sorry, Lord Apollo. But I can't. I have to stay here, in my Tower."

Apollo didn't miss a beat in his little song. "Why not?"

"My mother says I have to stay here."

"Pfft, you're a _teenager_. You still listen to what your mother tells you? _I _hit my rebellious phase so early on, you can ask my sis how much trouble I got into. Man, old man Zeus up there's been mad at me for centuries."

I shifted on my feet. "I have to stay here."

Apollo stopped strumming his ukelele after a moment of silence.

"And to be frank, I don't think I _should _be going anywhere. I didn't even know who you were until an hour or so ago. Besides, my mother would be upset if I left."

The god just sat at the table, one hand idly tapping at the wooden surface. It still hadn't sunken in that there was actually someone with me in my Tower other than Mother. I didn't think my reserves of knowledge on communication from TV alone were sufficient for normal conversation. Channel 12 and Nick could only teach me so much.

Apollo sighed, looking up and glancing around the Tower.

"Nice place you have here," he commented out of nowhere. A nostalgic smile began to spread across his face as he took in the room. "You know, one of my children had one just like this before. A beautiful girl, my daughter was. Very long, very beautiful sunshine hair. She took after me, of course. Not that there was anything wrong with her mother, wonderful woman as well; may she rest in peace."

I raised an eyebrow. This story sounded extremely reminiscent of something I had read at least hundred times over. "You've got to be kidding."

"I'm serious," Apollo said defensively, spreading his arms like he was daring me to challenge him. "I guess you're familiar with this story? Well, I suppose you should be, there was even one of those Disney movie thingies made after her."

"My mother is _not _a crazy kidnapping witch keeping me locked up here."

Apollo chuckled. "I never said she was, your mom's a good friend of mine."

I turned to look at him fully. "Really?"

He nodded.

I tried to keep my mind blank for fear of the god reading my mind, but he seemed to only be watching me intently as if waiting for me to make a decision. This _was _my decision. It was my choice whether to leave the Tower or not. . . my choice whether I could be free or not. What was there to be afraid of?

But as much as I mentally gave myself courage tell the god yes, Mother's warnings echoed in my mind.

_Outside is wonderful, yes. But for now, it is best for you to stay here._

_Should the others find you. . . that would be problematic._

_Let me protect you._

I knew that Mother wasn't an evil, scheming witch like the daughter of Apollo's kidnapper was from the fairy tale. I knew what parental abuse looked like (or at least I had a good idea) and whatever Mother was doing wasn't that. I was almost positive I wasn't being played by her either-I had always been too in tune with my emotions to be manipulated. She was genuinely concerned and trying to protect me from something.

But from _what_?

Then a sudden realization hit me. "Where's my mother now?"

Apollo was silent for a while as though he were deciding on how to answer. Or dreading to answer. He let out a long breath. "I can't tell you."

"_Excuse me?_"

"I can't tell you."

I blinked at him in utter disbelief. "What do you mean you can't tell me? I'm her _son_!"

A thousand things flashed across my mind at once. Was Mother hurt? Did someone capture her?

She had told me many times before just how tense and heated her Olympian family arguments were, even when she didn't take part. Did Poseidon take her under the sea? Or Zeus strike her down? Did Hades snatch her into the Underworld like he did Persephone? Mother once mentioned how the god Hephaestus had once captured Ares and his immortal lover in a golden net, and they weren't able to escape until the god himself let them out. What if my mother was ensnared in a trap somewhere, hopelessly entangled and unable to get free? Or maybe. . .

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What happened. What did you do to her?"

"_I _didn't do anything," Apollo retorted indignantly.

I took a skittish step back at the sudden aura of outrage bursting around the god. His eyes flared a blazing shade of fiery yellow for a moment, miniature suns burning in his eyes before returning to their bright blue. He took a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. My pounding heart made a mental note not to cross him again.

"I didn't do anything. I'm just trying to help, since she's my friend and all. If you come with me, then maybe you can help as well. Just a thought."

"And why should I trust you?" I asked suspiciously, making sure a kitchen knife was close at hand should the need arise. I doubted a little knife would be useful against a god, though.

"You would be wise not to," Apollo agreed to my surprise. He just sort of raised his arms in a _just go with it _kind of motion. "But sometimes you just gotta trust people when they say they want to help. After all, a girl once told me that beautiful people don't lie. And I'm the most beautiful and hot person this world's ever gonna see."

"You are quite good looking," I acknowledged absently, still deep in thought about my Mother.

Apollo gave me an amused smile. "Oh? Why, thank you. So you swing that way, then?"

I frowned, slightly confused as I glanced down at my feet. "I'm standing straight on the ground if I'm not mistaken."

"That's not-whatever, funny kid," he laughed. He got up from his seat and stretched a little. "Well, it's about time I get going. The sun doesn't stop even if the world's ending, you know? You coming with me or not?"

Upon seeing my hesitation, he added with a sly grin, "Just FYI, this person I'm taking you to see may or may not help your mom."

That was all the incentive I needed. "Give me five minutes."


	3. Another

_A/N: First and foremost-if you're reading this,bless your soul. Secondly, the character Armani Dove is an OC of whom belongs to Xed Alpha ( u/457149/Xed-Alpha), a wonderful author and you should definitely check out their fanfic, Broken Bow! Thank you :)_

**Lonely Hearth**

**Chapter Three : Another**

Driving through the sky was _not _what I had in mind.

"Is this your usual method of transportation?" I asked nervously, clutching my bag to my chest. I peeked out the window of the red sports car only to reel back in a moment later from the vertigo of the melting land beneath us. Or rather, we were flying so fast it only _looked _like it was melting.

Apollo laughed like he was having the time of his life. "Yeah, it's the best, huh?"

"The best," I repeated in a small voice. "And I thought that Harry Potter movie was fake with that flying car."

We drove on in silence for a few minutes.

After a while, I began to feel puzzled because it didn't look like we were actually _going _anywhere. The sea of green trees below us was no different from when we had set out.

"No worries, we'll be outta here soon," Apollo said breezily. He nodded at somewhere in the sky in front of us. "Ah, there it is."

I was about to ask what he was talking about when my vision swam like I had been plunged into jarring cold water. With an ear-popping _FWOOM _like when the Mythbusters broke the sound barrier, the red camaro bolted through the spot Apollo had indicated. Hands over my ears, I was about to ask again what that was; until I looked out the window.

"Whoa," I breathed in wonder, pressing my hands to the glass.

The sea of trees I had been so used to my entire life had simply _vanished_, replaced instead by long, winding roads populated by metal shapes I recognized as cars racing through them. A city was just off a little to our left just as I imagined it would be, albeit quite a bit louder and busier than I had expected. A vast expanse of shimmering water a little ways past the city took my breath away.

"Where-"

"Your mom kept you in a place she alone created," Apollo said. "A private dimension I guess you could say. She must love you a lot to go through the trouble of making one just for you."

My mouth fell open. "You mean, I literally had that entire world to myself?"

"Yep. Took me a really long time to find out how to get in, your mother's magic is strong."

I marveled at the new and strange world below me. I had read and watched so much about this new land, but seeing it up close and in person was shocking. It was an alien and foreign place.

"Where are we?"

"Close to a city the mortals call New York. Mt. Olympus is pretty much on top of the city and CHB is on the outskirts somewhere. See that ocean over there? That's the Atlantic."

"Olympus is right _there_?" I squeaked excitedly, bouncing a little. My eyes were inevitably drawn to the tall skyscraper I immediately pinned as the one known as the Empire State Building. Mother had told me about the special elevator that went all the way up to the 600th floor. "And CHB. . . Camp Half-Blood? They're all so close! Are we going to one of them? I've always wanted to go see the places Mother's told me about!"

Apollo chuckled. "Not yet, kid. Soon, though. I'm taking you to see my nephew first."

I settled back in my seat, trying not to feel too giddy as I hugged my knapsack.

Finally, _finally_.

None of the events up until that moment had felt real to me, eating lunch with a god and actually meeting someone. Not even when I jumped out from my Tower window into Apollo's sun/car convertible. But the moment we left that dimension, everything became a reality. I by no means hated the Tower. The Tower was my home.

But for once, I was out. I was free.

My mind was slowly drawn back down to earth, though, as I remembered my mother. What had happened to her? It probably wasn't my place to worry, she was a powerful goddess, after all. But still. . .

"Um, Lord Apollo?" I started a little tentatively.

"Hmm?" he grunted, looking bored as he manned the steering wheel with one hand.

"Back at the Tower, you said that you only discovered I existed a few days ago because your sister, Artemis, told you. Why did she tell you about me? And aside from you two, does anyone else know I exist?"

The god drove on in silence for another mile or two (thankfully the car had slowed to something like the standard speed limit thing I had read about) before answering. "Besides me and sis? Nah, I don't _think_ anyone else knows; except I'm not really sure about old man Zeus up there. Kinda hard to keep things out of his nose."

The sound of distant thunder rumbled the sky in response.

I stared at the sky, wide eyed. "Is that a yes?"

Apollo shrugged like _I 'unno_.

"And-one last question, I promise," I added hastily when Apollo groaned. My eyes drifted away from the god to look back out the window. ". . . why does Mother have to keep me a secret from everyone else?"

This time, the silence was even longer than the first; long enough for me to wonder if Apollo had even heard me as I watched the city zoom by, our journey taking us out closer to the ocean. He probably did. But he didn't want to answer.

I was about to breathe out a silent sigh of resignation when a quiet voice spoke.

"There's a funny thing about us gods you should know, Aubrey. We do a lot of stuff; mingle with a lot of people, sire a lot of children, curse a lot of people. A lot of-okay, I admit, _stupid _stuff. But more often than not, we really do have our children's best wishes at heart. The thing about us gods is that the more we love something, the more that something tends to end up with a less than a sad fate. Your mother more than anyone."

For a moment, the speaker didn't register in my mind.

I turned to stare at Apollo who had his eyes fixed on the imaginary road ahead of us, looking as though he had never spoken at all.

- x -

"Well? What do you think?"

I regarded the estate in curious puzzlement. The clean glass windows reflected the early evening sunlight back out onto the bay waters that the building overlooked. It was a beautiful work of construction, I had to admit. The building had a very high-class feeling.

"I thought you said that you were bringing me to one of your temples?"

Apollo laughed delightedly like I had just cracked a good joke. "Of course, this _is _my temple. Nice, yes?"

"Um, Lord Apollo. That's a condo."

I figured that last statement would get me blasted to smithereens, but Apollo only sighed and muttered something under his breath. Apparently, he had gotten a lot of similar responses to his not-so temple in the past. He opened the door without the use of any key or passcode and walked straight in, of which I thought was a little strange. Weren't homes supposed to be secured and safe?

"I'm back," I heard Apollo call as I followed him into the condo.

I was busy taking in the hallway the moment I stepped in, which sounds kind of dumb. But I dare _you _not to goggle at everything you see after being stuck in Lalaland your whole life. When it's like that, even a simple photograph of a guitar like the one hanging next to my face was fascinating.

"About time. You said you would be back a week ago," a dry voice said, astonishingly close.

I glanced up distractedly from the vase I had been studying by the door, something I presumed was from the Orients. Or Asia, as most people would call it.

But when I saw who was standing at the end of the hallway, all thoughts of the pottery left my mind.

It was _him_. The messy bangs swept to the side like he had just gone for a run, a little bit taller than me and looking a year or two older. He wasn't scowling now, but that didn't make him any less intimidating. His silver eyes were piercing, and I felt strangely vulnerable under his scrutiny.

I stared at him in contained shock. Why was this boy from my drawing here?

The boy glanced at me, his eyes narrowing as if noticing my surprise. He looked at Apollo. "Who's this?" he asked, nodding in my direction.

"A friend," Apollo beamed.

"What's he doing here?"

"To meet you, of course. I just thought it'd be nice for you to have some friends, Armani. I mean, I know you already have more than you'll ever need with me around, but maybe having another puny demigod would be in order."

The boy called Armani regarded me with a sideways glance, his nose wrinkling slightly. "You know I don't like company."

Apollo nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. That's why I brought him to stay with you for a while!"

"You _what_?" Armani and I both asked in unison, him sounding a bit more irritated.

"Unacceptable," Armani snapped. "This kid's not living with me. Is this about what happened last week on guitar hero? I _let _you choose the song, it wasn't _my_ fault you got frustrated with the vocals and threw your guitar out the window!"

"He's staying here, and that's that," Apollo said simply.

"He's leaving in five minutes, and that's that," Armani shot back.

"No, he's not."

"Stop being a stubborn, big-headed ball of gas!"

I took a small step back, instinctively sensing that the tense exchange had pushed the god a little too far.

Apollo crossed his arms. Armani, too, now felt the danger as the god's glowing aura became more noticeable and shifted on his feet. "Do not argue with me about this, Armani."

The older boy's silvery eyes flashed in anger, but he bit back whatever remark he had been about to make. Instead, he just let out a frustrated sigh and jammed his fists in the pockets of his clothing. I resisted the urge to reach out and feel the mottled grey fabric. It looked like a hunter's garb of some sort from a show I had watched.

But never mind that.

I glanced at Apollo accusingly. "I'm here, Lord Apollo. Now would you please tell me the whereabouts of my mother?"

Apollo made a thoughtful sound. "Eh. Maybe later."

I stared at him. "What do you mean _maybe later_? You said-"

"Oh Zeus, would you look at the time!" Apollo cut in brightly, pointing at his flashy Rolex watch on his wrist. "I think that's my dear sister calling to tell how much she loves me again. Best be going. Oh, and Armani, I expect you to take good care of Aubrey here. I expect you two to be closer than George and Martha when I get back. I'll tell sis you said hello!"

Before either of us could stop him, the god flashed us a car-accident worthy smile before vanishing in a brilliant flash of divine light. The hallway instantly seemed to danken without the sun god's presence.

I stared at the spot where Apollo had just disappeared. Not because I particularly missed him or feared being without him (actually, _he _was the one scaring me), but because I had no idea what to do. Armani hadn't budged from his spot in the hallway, his shoulders squared impassively and looking anything but conversational.

_Oh dear, I knew I should have watched more of those teen shows and not Chef Ramsay._

I could just picture myself throwing a tantrum and screaming '_Piss off!' _whilst hurling around the vase by the door. It wasn't a pleasant scenario.

The back of my neck tingled, and I looked up.

Unreadable silver eyes studied me; reading my face as if gauging how much of a threat I was. After another moment or two, his gaze shifted to meet mine almost expectantly. It took me a moment longer to realize that he was waiting for _me _to talk.

"H-Hello," I started a little awkwardly, wincing as I bit my tongue.

"Hey."

_Well, at least he answered_, I thought. _Now, how did people go about introducing themselves? Not something too casual; something more respectful? Maybe it's-yeah, that'll do._

I abruptly dropped to one knee. "My name is Aubrey Chessa, of the Tower. It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I kept my head lowered for a moment longer (I had read somewhere that the duration your head was lowered in a bow determined a degree of respect) before looking back up to the older boy.

He was looking at me in something akin to bewilderment before shaking his head and chuckling, "Armani Dove. Do you always introduce yourself like some knight's squire?"

My eyes widened. This Armani was _good_. "Um, I thought it would be fun?" I tried playing it off with a smile.

"Well, whatever. I was just about to head out when that dimwit god came back but since you're here. . . I guess I'll go later tonight." Armani shifted on his feet like he was mentally debating something. ". . . do you want to come inside?" he finally offered a little reluctantly.

I shrugged. "For lack of any other option, I suppose."

I followed him down the hall that opened up into a surprisingly normal looking living room. Well, about as normal as it gets with a god.

There were several arrows lying around the place and seemingly at random, bows strung and unstrung were carefully propped against the wall. A dagger sat on the coffee table and more of the same hunter's garb was draped over a chair. Aside from the eccentric objects, the room was modestly furnished in an almost aesthetic fashion.

It was certainly different from my Tower.

"So. . . Armani. Are you, um," I faltered, wondering if the question I had begun to ask was too personal. Too late, Armani's attention was already on me. "Are you also a half blood?"

I thought I saw his eyes become guarded for a moment before answering simply, "Yeah."

I might have been unfamiliar with being around people, but I had a feeling he was sensitive about the topic. Better not to push him.

"I presume that you're also some god's kid? I can feel a kind of magic around you," Armani guessed as he strode into the kitchen in the corner of the room. He pulled open the fridge door and spared me a glance. "Dionysus? Poseidon?"

I shook my head. He continued to look at me, obviously expecting me to elaborate. But I didn't feel the need to reveal any more about myself than he did, so I didn't.

He went back to rummaging through the fridge when it became apparent that I wasn't going to elaborate. I almost hissed when he pulled out one of those horrendous boxes that I so feared-microwavable meals. Those abominations showed up on commercials occasionally and they seemed positively artificial and a disgrace to the culinary art.

"You _eat _those?" I gagged, trying not to sound too appalled.

Armani made a face. "Not if I can help it. I usually hunt for my food. But since I'm so obviously _not _out in the forest right now. . . I'll have to settle for this. You want some?"

"Not on my life," I said firmly.

I moved to stand next to him, peeking into the ice box that had fascinated me so much my entire life. Pleased at what I saw, I immediately began to pull out a variety of ingredients and setting them on the counter.

". . . what are you doing?"

"Making _real _food," I said determinedly. I glanced over at him, a small smirk tilting my lip upwards. "You want some?"

- x -

I cleared away the practically clean plates and set them in the sink.

Cooking with modern technology had been _weird_. Who knew a microwave had so many buttons to press and all these functions I hadn't the faintest idea about. I tried to figure out how the refrigerator operated as a cooler and a freezer simultaneously, unfortunately getting my head stuck in the freezer compartment and needing Armani's help to yank me out. I mean, the stove even had a _fan_.

A cough sounded from behind me. "The food was good. . . thanks," Armani said, sounding a little awkward like he wasn't used to conversing with people on a regular basis. I could relate.

I simply nodded.

He stood up and stretched, fixing his hunter's garb and slipping the glowing bronze knife from the coffee table into his belt.

"Where are you going?" I asked curiously as he started across the living room.

"Hunting. I'll be back later tonight."

". . . you aren't going to ask me why I'm here?"

Armani stopped at the entrance to the hallway. "I figured that if Apollo didn't tell me, then why should you?"

_Well, he wasn't _wrong, I thought as I watched the empty space and listened to the front door click shut. Still, I thought it would have been a little nicer for us to be on better terms with each other.

I shook my head.

_No, I don't have any right to say that, either._

I turned my attention back to the empty kitchen before me, a grin of anticipation slowly chasing away my glumness.

_Now, let's see what that glass beaker thing does._

_-_ x_ -_

Apollo touched down in the driveway, not a sound of the tires squealing against the cement in the dead of night.

Perfect as usual.

He got out, glancing up at the radiant moon in the clear night sky above as he locked the car and reached for the condo's door handles. The stars scattered across the sky filled the night with light, the Huntress mid stride across the sky.

His talk with his sister earlier that day had been glum and slow; no progress had been made in the investigation at all. Even with the help of her Hunters, Artemis had yet to find a scent. They had been searching together for practically an entire week already, but they had found nothing. After finally setting their pride aside, they had decided to cooperate, but to no avail.

The trail had gone cold.

The sun god's frown deepened at the thought.

If they didn't find the kid's mother soon. . . even Apollo didn't want to think about what consequences that would have.

He strode into the house, making sure to slip on one of his usual lady-killing smiles. He was slightly surprised to see a boy clad in mottled grey standing still as a statue at the entrance to the living room, intent on studying something.

"It's been a long day."

"Hasn't it?" Armani murmured. The demigod had always been able to sense Apollo's presence. The boy turned to face him. "Why did you bring him here? And don't say something like I need a friend, don't give me that crap."

"Really, Armani. Can't you just trust that I'm doing this for a reason?"

"No."

Apollo put on a hurt expression, but Armani didn't budge. He let out a resigned sigh. "Because the kid needs _you_."

Armani stared at him. Then he laughed, "What the heck are you talking about? Why would he need _me_? Just bring him to Camp Half Blood! That's what you did for me. He'll have all the surplus annoying demigods he'll ever need over there and he won't bother me!"

"Because he's just like you."

The demigod seemed stunned for a moment, the last soft spoken sentence registering in his mind a moment later than was the norm. Then the flash of realization dawned on him. Speechless, he slowly turned his piercing silver eyes to the sleeping boy on the couch.

Disbelief and muted surprise was written all across his face.

"You don't mean. . . he's not my _brother_, is he?"

Apollo shook his head. "No, that he isn't. But I think you already know what sets him apart from your run of the mill demigod, don't you?"

Armani's expression was grim. "Who's his godly mother?"

"I can't say," the god answered, waving aside Armani's frustrated glare. "That is for him to disclose and him alone."

The son of Artemis let out a short bark of ironic laughter. "Yeah, I guess it is. But if he's just like me, then I hope he decides to tell me soon. For his own sake."

The two left the sleeping demigod with a blanket draped loosely over him as he stirred in his sleep, the name of his mother murmured softly in his dreams.

But there was no one there to hear it.


	4. What Child Is This?

**Lonely Hearth**

**Chapter Four : What Child Is This?**

I was sitting in a room.

It was a strange place, it appeared to be some sort of old american country house resembling something I had seen in an old movie once, complete with the typical old rocking chairs and aged furniture. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything abnormal about the room; until I took in the contents. Swords and spears rested casually next to lemonade glasses and playing cards, _What's Trending In_ _Olympus _magazines cluttered the coffee table in front of me.

But strangest of all were the three people sitting in front of me, one man and two young women. They were speaking in hushed tones as if they were discussing something secret and didn't want anyone to hear.

"She has been gone for quite some time now. . ." I heard the man say, stroking his beard.

The blonde girl with grey eyes turned to the other girl across from her. "Rachel, are you _sure _you haven't seen anything? No clues or dreams? Visions?"

"None," the red head shook her head with a sigh, her red curls bouncing by her shoulders. "The gift of prophecy's been kind of crazy since the last War."

_Prophecy? War?_

"Well, in any case," the man said quietly. He shifted in his seat-continuing to shift until I was sure he _definitely_ wasn't sitting. I gaped at his form. Humanoid torso and upper body until the waist where it transitioned into that of a horse. My Little Pony didn't prepare me for this. "The gods on Olympus must surely know by now; or at least a few of them. Perhaps it is best we leave things in their hands."

"What?" the blonde gasped, sounding appalled. "You want to leave this up to _them_? They must be arguing even _more _than usual with her gone!"

The old centaur sighed tiredly. "That is a fact I cannot deny. But I am sure you two remember very well what happened the last time a certain goddess vanished. . . along with one of our own."

I noticed the last comment was made pointedly at the blonde girl of whom paled slightly and blew the bangs out of her face.

The two girls murmured in reluctant agreement, but they seemed discontent with the notion.

Then my visions changed.

I was standing in a clearing. A small river cut through the field and into the surrounding forest, enclosing me on all sides. A solid wall of black bricks loomed up in front of my face.

Inevitably, my eyes were drawn up.

What I was seeing didn't make sense.

This was definitely my Tower, the impossibly tall spire of solid brick. But this didn't feel like _my _Tower. The craftsmanship of this ugly spire was careful and deliberate; and yet it was far from appealing, as if whoever made it took extra care in making it look forbidding. The solid black material radiated a cold fiercer than anything I had ever felt before, chilling me to the bone without any physical contact. I was tempted to reach out and touch it, but I could feel the life draining qualities of the material. I had a feeling it would be a bad idea. Dark clouds churned in the sky above, shrouding the top of the Tower in an opaque, murky vapor.

This wasn't my home.

My home was a thing of beauty, a tall and regal Tower built with peaceful warmth set in the stones themselves. It was nothing like this deathly spire of freezing metal.

But then, what _was _it?

A scream I later realized came from _me_ tore through the air, a sudden flare of excruciating pain exploding from chest. I stared in numb shock as the tip of a black dagger sprouted from the front of my chest.

I struggled in vain to try and catch a glimpse of my attacker, but the blade twisted in me and another wave of blackening pain seared through my body. I fell to the floor with a thud, involuntary spasms already racking my body. It felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. My vision was failing, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood beginning to flood my mouth.

A black boot stepped into my field of vision.

With the last bit of strength I had left, I turned my eyes upward.

The only thing I saw was a figure cloaked in darkness, the cowl tossed and obscuring the assassin's face in shadow. Then darkness was all I saw.

- x -

Something was shaking me.

Before my eyes were even open, I found my fists clenched around a fabric of some sort.

"Whoa! Calm down there," came a startled voice.

My eyes cleared, my face feeling strangely wet. Armani was crouched beside me next to the sofa, my hands gripping his shirt collar tight enough for my knuckles to go white.

_What?_

I immediately released him, shrinking back into the couch and pulling the blankets up around me. "S-Sorry."

The older boy eyed me warily, his silvery eyes cutting into me like a knife. After a moment's study, they widened. "Aubrey. . . are you okay?"

"Y-Yes. I'm fine," I said, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

But what was _that_? A dream?

I had never had a dream as vivid as one like that before. The only times I rarely dreamt in the Tower were feelings that I couldn't explain, some emotions I hadn't even felt before. Sometimes painful and sometimes happy; sometimes somewhere in between. They felt like they were someone else's emotions and not my own.

Armani raised an eyebrow. He reached for a tissue box on the coffee table. "Your. . . uh, face."

I took the tissue with a nod of thanks, sniffling uncontrollably. I took a few deep breaths. The calming technique had always worked in my Tower.

We were both silent for a minute or two after my breathing had finally steadied.

"Bad dreams?" Armani asked softly, sounding surprisingly sympathetic.

I nodded. "Nightmare," I murmured, the word feeling foreign in my mouth. "I've never had one like it before. Dreams haven't touched me before."

He looked at me curiously. "You've never had any dreams before?"

"None like this."

He watched me carefully again, a strange look in his eyes. It seemed as though he was trying to pin me in a category of some sort based on my face.

He got up. "Anyway, it's morning. I made breakfast so get up. It'll go cold soon."

I pasted a smile to my face, appreciating the gesture of kindness. But I was less than enthusiastic to eat something like a microwavable meal first thing in the morning after my ordeal. My stomach still felt queasy from my sleep.

But as I followed Armani to the kitchen table, I was surprised to see a platter of delicious smelling roast meat, the aromatic steam wafting up to my face.

I blinked. "Roast meat."

"I went hunting last night. Not exactly breakfast food, but it'll do," he grunted, slicing off a chunk of the meat in a swift cut. He motioned for me to sit down.

"Do you live here on your own?" I asked as we ate. I was tentative to start conversation since I still wasn't very good at it, but I didn't want the awkward silence to settle over us again. It would have been no different from living in the Tower.

"For the most part, but Apollo stops by every couple of days to check up on me. Personally, I prefer to keep it that way," he said through a mouthful of food. He looked sheepish for a moment. "I mean, it's fine that you're here, I guess. Since you're already here. I'm just saying I like to keep to myself. . ."

He decisively shut his mouth and I couldn't help laughing at his continual attempt to make things less awkward.

"I get what you mean, being alone is really nice," I agreed. I picked at the meat on my plate. "But don't you ever. . . you know. Feel lonely sometimes?"

"Yeah, that happens," Armani admitted. "It doesn't happen a lot, but it happens. I just go to Camp Half Blood whenever I feel like being around people. Or my mom. Her followers are fine, too."

I stared at him in awed delight. "You've been to Camp Half Blood? How's it like there? Are there really stables for the pegasi? Are there a lot of other demigods? People like me?"

"Slow down, gods. One question at a time, motor mouth," he groaned, holding a hand up to silence me. "Yes, I've been there. It sucks for the most part with the exception of several instances. Yes, a smelly shack for the winged beasts. And _yes_ there is an unfortunate amount of annoying demigods like you and me."

Not long ago, my chest had been feeling like it was being ripped apart from within, but now it felt like it was about to burst with excitement. People like _me_! People who were children of the gods, people who understood! Of course, I didn't expect them to be the same as me, after all, who gets shut up in a tower all their life anyway? But it was far better than nothing.

"Do you have a cabin? My mother told me that the cabins at Camp are arranged in a big U, is that true?"

Something odd flickered across Armani's face when I said that, a look I immediately pinned as wary suspicion. Did I ask something too personal again?

He was silent for a time, as if he were deciding whether or not to answer. The question seemed to weigh heavily on his mind.

". . .8," he said quietly. "Cabin 8."

I inclined my head at him.

I didn't know what cabin 8 was, but I made it a priority to find out the moment I got to Camp Half Blood. Armani was a very mysterious person; a rather hard to read person. But deep down, I could feel that he was a good person. I wanted to learn to understand him. My mother had always told me that wherever my heart was, was where I should keep my faith and trust. I had faith that Armani was trustworthy. And for a strange reason I couldn't explain, I _wanted _to be able to trust him.

I didn't want to trust in a Tower to keep me safe.

I didn't want to trust in an alternate dimension to keep me hidden.

I didn't want to trust in gods that thought I couldn't see through their manipulation.

I wanted to trust in someone I could call a friend.

"I wonder if I have a cabin of my own," I mused a little dreamily. "With brothers and sisters."

Armani visibly stiffened at that, surprising even me. Even with only the short stay in his home, I had easily been able to see that Armani was an expert at hiding his feelings. For him to react so strongly to something. . . I must have said something of equal magnitude.

But for the millionth time and counting-just what the _Hades _did I _say_?

". . . I-Is something wrong?" I asked tentatively after another minute or two of tense silence. I was afraid I had just broken the already fragile bond we had established.

Instead of answering, Armani slowly reached for his belt. There was the sound of metal scraping against something as he unsheathed an unfamiliar dagger from his waist and for a frightening moment, I thought he was going to gut me for talking too much. To my relief, he didn't; but he did something equally surprising.

He held the dagger out to me.

I looked from the bronze blade to him, his silver eyes urging me to take it.

". . . What is this?" I asked, feeling uneasy at the thought of wielding a weapon. I didn't want to hurt anyone.

But I accepted the dagger anyway, trying to hide a grimace. It must have been a token of friendship of some sort; after all, it wasn't Armani's usual hunting knife. This one seemed more elegantly crafted. But the moment my hand closed around the hilt, I felt a surge of warmth wash through my arm and course into my body. I almost dropped the blade with a yelp of surprise.

"A gift,"Armani said quietly. His silver eyes studied me once more. "From your mom."

I stared at him in confusion.

"Last night, Apollo and I. . . talked. He told me to give this to you, saying that your mom left it in his care to give to you. And don't ask me why she gave it to _Apollo _of all people, I wouldn't trust him with a toothpick."

The intimidating aura of the weapon had all but faded away the moment it came into contact with my hands. The hilt was wrapped in tight leather, the blade guard etched with strange markings that looked suspiciously like runes of some sort. The leaf shaped bronze blade glowed dimly.

It was a gift from Mother.

I would have sat there studying the blade for hours had a cough not brought my attention back to reality.

"Aubrey, I know you don't really want to talk about this. But this is important," Armani said, his voice soft. "Who is your mother?"

My eyes shifted to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, but I was explicitly taught not to tell."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Why not?"

I hesitated before shaking my head. This conversation was heading in a direction I preferred it wouldn't. "It would be dangerous."

"I won't hurt you."

"I believe you, but I still can't."

"You'll have to trust me."

"Trust goes both ways."

"_Fine_. What do you want me to trust you with?"

"Who's _your _godly parent?"

Armani's face darkened, his eyes cutting into me like arrows trying to pierce my skin. It was obvious that I had touched on a subject he didn't want to talk about, either, but I stood by my views. Trust wasn't a one way road; it needed to go both ways for it to actually get anywhere. It wouldn't so much be called _trust _rather than _manipulation _otherwise.

"Fine, don't tell me then. I'm going out," he snapped. He got out of his seat. "And just so you know, Aubrey. I know how it feels like to not want to open up-it sucks and it's scary. I've been there. But that has to change. We're only human. Humans can't keep everything inside. You want me to trust you? Show me why I should."

I didn't stop him from leaving as I listened to the front door slam behind him, my glare fixed on the dagger in my hands. It was partially my fault for pushing him when he didn't want to talk, but he'd done the same to _me_. Besides, it's not like my bargain was unfair or anything. A fact for a fact, simple as that.

Human interactions were more complex than I had thought.

- x -

The condo was fascinating to look through, at least. There wasn't much for me to do alone in the house and as much as I longed to visit the city, I was a little worried about going outside. I still didn't have the faintest idea on how society was actually run outside of TV shows and reality shows. I doubted they accurately reflected civilization, anyway.

I explored the rooms, finding all kinds of cool stuff I had previously only been dreaming of. I tried stringing a bow just to see how it worked, only for the string to snap back and leave a stinging gash on my arm. It hurt a ton, but as people would say-worth.

I tried to tinker with the game system I had seen on TV known as a _Wii_, but apparently the remotes had stopped functioning for some reason. When I got to the room I assumed was the library, I couldn't resist a giddy squeak at all the different kinds of books Mother had never brought me. She always brought back all kinds of interesting and fascinating stories, but her knowledge of different genres wasn't omnipotent. Disney movies and fantasy books were wonderful, but books on hunting and survival skills? _That _was an interesting change.

I poured over the literature for hours.

Time passed quicker than I had thought possible, evening already quickly approaching by the time I had finished my round through the house. I figured it was about time I started making dinner, Armani was bound to be back soon.

But when I walked into the living room, I was surprised to see that he had already beat me there. He looked up from his spot on the couch, wincing slightly.

"Oh. . . hey, Aubrey," Armani tried for a small smile.

"Hello."

He shifted in his seat, looking uncertain as to what to say. Probably because he still felt unsure of how to make up from this morning. I had been tempted to let it play out for a little bit just to show I was serious about the topic; but then I saw the red gash in his shirt.

"Armani, you're hurt!" I breathed, all thoughts of acting aloof cast aside as I hurried to get a closer look by his side. There was a bloody gash on his stomach, scarlet red slowly staining his grey hunter's garb.

"Just a scratch. Hellhound surprised me," he reassured me. He winced at the effort. "It's nothing, I've seen a lot worse."

I looked at him for a moment before running off to grab some materials.

". . . what are you doing?" he asked, sounding surprised as I lifted his shirt to assess the damage.

"Dressing your wound, what the Hades do you think?" I muttered, dabbing at the rough tear in his skin with a wet towel. It didn't look good, a painfully deep tear around his abdomen. He grimaced in pain, and I tried to be a little more gentle. "You're a hunter, aren't you? You should know to clean your wounds first thing."

"I _know_, I was going to do it myself when I had the chance."

"Well, not if I'm here to help, I assure you. Now, this is going to sting a little so bear with me," I murmured, pressing the gauze into the wound and quickly binding it with a bandage. I took a step back to reassess the wound. "Looks fine now."

Armani glanced down at the bandages and mumbled, "Thanks. I didn't think you knew how to do first aid."

To be honest, I _shouldn't _have. I didn't ever need to bandage anything more than a cut finger in my Tower. Aside from the medical books and shows I had read and watched, I had absolutely zero experience at first aid.

But the moment I saw the wound, something inside me just. . . clicked and knew what to do. It was a strange feeling.

"Anyway, you sit there and don't move. You've lost a lot of blood," I muttered, picking up his blood soaked shirt. "I'll wash this and then make dinner. You don't move, understand?"

He grumbled something under his breath but remained sitting, taking a swig from a flask he kept in his hunter's bag.

I hurried off to wash the clothing (I still had no idea how the washing machine worked, there were too many buttons) and prepare dinner. The speed at which I worked amazed even _me_. I didn't know I could make a full meal in ten minutes flat if I tried.

I held the bowl of stew out to him.

We ate together in silence and for some reason, I thought that was just fine. Maybe people didn't always have to talk when they were together. Maybe they just needed someone to be there for them sometimes.

My thoughts wandered. The conversation I had with Apollo back in my Tower resurfaced in my mind like a nagging cloud. What happened to Mother? _Where _was Mother? And why did she leave me this dagger?

So many questions and yet no one wanted to answer me. It was worrying and frustrating.

Armani set down his empty bowl. "You're really good at cooking."

"I've had a lot of time to practice."

He stood up, putting on an identical hunting shirt from his bag. He sheathed a knife in his belt and slung an empty quiver over his shoulder, which I thought was a little strange. I was pretty sure a quiver was made for storing arrows, not air. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going hunting. That hellhound is still on the loose and it's not getting any more dead the longer I wait."

"You're _hurt_. I am _not _letting you go out just to come back even more dead than before."

In response, he just took another swig from his flask and shook it in front of me. "I'll be fine, I'm pretty much as good as new now, anyway. Nectar does wonders," he said matter-of-factly as if it should have been obvious.

I frowned. "Nectar?"

"You don't know what nectar is?" Armani asked, looking shocked when I shook my head. "You _are _a demigod, aren't you? How the hell have you survived this long without even knowing what nectar is? Don't tell me you don't know about ambrosia, either?"

I just shook my head again, my mouth opening automatically to come up with an excuse.

_You want me to trust you? Show me why I should._

I stopped, the words from this morning echoing in my head. Armani was right. How could I expect him to trust me when I didn't show proof that I trusted him? That had to change.

"I. . . I've never seen or heard of anything called ambrosia or nectar," I admitted quietly. I shifted nervously when I felt his eyes on me. "I've been locked up in an alternate dimension my whole life. That's why I don't know how to do a lot things you know how to. Like-Like how to use a washing machine and how to replace batteries in your Wiimotes. I don't have the faintest idea as to what is socially acceptable by mortal standards."

"What do you mean _locked in an alternate dimension_?"

I tried my best to explain the Tower and how I had been on my own with the exception of my mother for fourteen years. He actually took it relatively calmer than I had expected him to.

"You mean. . . this is your first time out of this Tower?" he asked. Something about his tone of voice sounded almost expectant, as though he had expected something like this.

I nodded. "You're the first human I've had the pleasure of speaking with."

"It sounds a lot like Tangled."

"Tell me about it."

"And I thought you were just some antisocial."

"I might be, I don't know. But I want to meet other demigods."

"Then you're not," he smiled. This smile was different from the ones before. This one was genuine. And in that moment, something inside me ticked; like a spark being lit in my very soul. I felt. . . _tethered _and warm. It was a strangely comforting feeling.

But as quickly as the smile had come, it was replaced by a look of surprise and wariness. His eyes narrowed and he glared at the door as if it had personally offended his mother. "The hellhound. It's close. Stay here."

Before I could stop him, he ran swiftly out of the room. For just a moment I was torn between following him and staying in the house as I was told.

I grabbed my dagger and ran after him.

- x -

Armani burst out of the undergrowth near the house, the woods already dark and shadowy in the falling night.

Perfect.

Night was when he operated best, anyway. The hellhound had only gotten him earlier that day because he had been taken by surprise and already weakened. Now that the moon was out and the call of the Hunt resounding in his mind. . . it was a different story. He wouldn't lose.

With a flick of his wrist, a shaft of moonlight solidified into a gleaming silver bow in his hands. Just like his mother's. He pulled glowing arrows from out of thin air, storing a few in his quiver and nocking one onto the bow string.

It was close.

He felt it. The coldness of the Underworld in his stomach confirmed that.

Nimbly climbing a nearby tree, he waited amidst the branches. He usually preferred hunting and chasing his prey, but the injury in his side still bothered him slightly. The bandages around his waist crackled as he shifted.

So that was Aubrey's story. Armani had been expecting something out of the norm after his talk with Apollo. But still, a _tower_? The gods seriously needed a lesson on original methods of confinement.

But his mother. . . who could his mother be? The dumbass Apollo had told Armani that Aubrey was like him but couldn't even say who it was. Gods were so cryptically frustrating. Could it have been Hecate? _Technically _she was virgin goddess, just that she conceived children in different ways like Athena did. There was a kind of magic around the kid, after all.

But he doubted it would be as simple as that.

"_Just tell me, I'll find out eventually, anyway!" _he had argued with the god last night. "_Leaving me in the dark'll just put him and me in danger."_

Apollo had merely shaken his head and ended the debate with, "_You know that's not how it works, Armani. All I can tell you is that he is just like you. His mother didn't give birth to him just like how Artemis didn't give birth to you. Your conceptions were astronomically circumstantial."_

As if he didn't know _that _already.

_Hmm. . . maybe it's-_

A shriek pierced the air, and too late Armani realized that he had been too caught up in his thoughts.

_Crap, since when were there so many of them? _

Bat-like creatures flitted between the trees around him, moving too quickly for even his trained eyes to track consistently. Not even one fury but all _three. _Why were there so many of them all in one place?

He nocked an arrow, calmly drawing back on the bow and loosed the bolt. The Song of the Hunt rose to a soprano in his mind. His aim was true, striking a fury in midair with a blood curdling scream. He watched as she melted away in dirty clumps of sand.

_One down, two to go._

It took him less than a minute to shoot down the remaining furies. A silvery glow was radiating off of his skin, trailing after every arrow he fired off into the darkness like wispy tails of shooting stars. The blessing of Artemis.

With a contented sigh, he was just about to climb back down when he flinched at something grabbing his ankle. His arrow was immediately drawn and pointed at a boy's face below, his brown eyes seeming to glow in the dark.

"I told you to stay back at the house," Armani sighed, lowering his bow.

Aubrey shook his head. "It's a good thing I didn't. Look."

Armani followed his gaze, and his heart felt like it had crawled up and died in his throat. All around the tree like a zombie apocalypse were numerous clusters of monsters, snarling and growling for food. There were too many and it was too dark to name each of them.

Oh, gods. This was beyond just being surrounded.

"Relax," Aubrey's voice said calmly as he surveyed the imminent death below them.

"Relax? Are you not _seeing _this?" Armani hissed. He had been running escape plans and methods of running away in the time space of a few seconds, dismissing each one as impossible just as quickly. Maybe alone he could make it, but with this kid who hadn't even left home before with him. . .

He focused, trying to call the Hunt from within. They were close, he could feel them just beyond the city. If he could just contact them. . .

A hand rested on his shoulder. "Calm down."

"I am calm," he snapped. "Now, shut up and let me concentrate or we're both dead."

"No, we're not. I've seen you shoot and I know you can do this."

Something about his voice made Armani look at him. The eyes that stared back at him weren't of the scared and nervous boy who had been talking with him in the living room. His gaze was steady and seemed to stare _into _him.

"You can do this. I believe you can."

The moment those words left his mouth, the strangest thing happened. A warmth so strong it made Armani's nerves tingle swept through him, the calming power streaming in from Aubrey's hand and washing over his entire body.

It was like the Song of the Hunt-but at the same time it wasn't. The power was different. Where the Hunt was wild and brimming with overwhelming energy, completely unrestrained and relentless; this power was the complete opposite. It was calming, steadying. The same way he had felt when Artemis brushed the hair back from his face or when he was laying in his bunk in Cabin 8. It was home.

The nerves and cornered panic vanished.

He wasn't scared.

He raised his bow, calmly and steadily picking off the monsters below with deadly accuracy. They screeched and snarled at the attack, scrambling forward to climb the tree but were met by a wave of silver arrows that couldn't possibly all be coming from a single archer. But it was.

After a time, all that was left were piles of dusty sand settled all around the forest floor like evil dust bunnies.

Armani blinked, the surge of power fading from his bones.

He whirled on his companion, the shock catching up with him. "What was _that_? What did you do?"

The younger boy was leaning against the trunk of the tree, panting slightly as if he had gone for a run. The calm and composed look from earlier had vanished, replaced by a look of confusion and bafflement. He was trembling.

"I-I don't know," he stammered, staring at his hands. "I just-I put my hand on your shoulder and-"

The boy seemed absolutely speechless, so rattled by what had just happened. Armani had a feeling that the boy didn't know anymore than he did.

But then a crack of realization dawned on the hunter.

It couldn't be. . .

"Aubrey. Who's your godly parent?"

Aubrey Chessa looked back up at him, his warm brown eyes wide and Armani's suspicions were confirmed. He took a shuddering breath.

"Hestia. Her name is Hestia."


End file.
